


Vivisepulture

by That_Fergy_Love



Category: Freakytits - Fandom, Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 09:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Fergy_Love/pseuds/That_Fergy_Love
Summary: Vivisepulture - To be buried while still alive





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Joan continued to scream, Bea Smith stared down at her, seemingly laughing at her ghastly plight. Joan felt her throat becoming raw, but she was powerless to stop the endless torrent of pandemonium from escaping her mouth. She had no idea how long she had been encased in this dark enclave, but she did know one thing, she didn’t want to die like this.

“JOAN!”

The sound pierced through the atmosphere that enveloped her like a well-placed lunge of the sabre. Joan jumped a little, then, silenced, she listened…nothing…she could feel the panic rising inside her again, like the fire that had threatened to consume her in the prison all those months ago. 

“Joan!” It came again, this time softer, more forgiving. It was her father’s voice, she was sure of it. “Dad?” she implored in a small voice.

“Joan, listen to me!” the voice commanded, “I’m going to get you out of here!”

Joan had still been holding her thumb down on the lighter, casting a dim light around the gloomy walls of her premature sarcophagus, the darkness illuminating to form freakish shadow puppets, which danced around her. For the first time in her life Joan was scared, really scared.

“First thing first, put the lighter down, it’s wasting oxygen!” came the voice “Secondly, you have to stay calm, I thought I’d taught you better than this Joan, emotions lead to mistakes.” 

Joan dropped the lighter, closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing, deep breaths, trying to conserve as much oxygen as she could by holding her breath for a few seconds in between exhaling. Her father’s voice now seemed to be in her head rather than in the murky air surrounding her. 

The first thing she tried was an SAS distress call, it would probably be in vain, it was doubtful that there would be nobody within earshot, but it was worth a try. She wasn’t entirely sure how she knew about this; her father had obviously instilled it into her at some point throughout her childhood but she couldn’t remember when or why.

Joan tapped the box lid three times in quick succession following up with three slower knocks. After the fourth time of performing this ritual she stopped and listened, all she could hear was deafening silence. 

“Remove your jumper,” the voice instructed. “What? Why?” Joan replied to the darkness in a hoarse whisper. “Remove your jumper,” it came again, this time with more force.

Joan crossed her arms over her chest, she then uncrossed them so that her elbows were bent and her hands were touching her shoulders. Gripping the teal material at the shoulder she pulled up, sitting up as much as she could in the cramped space, wincing as she banged her forehead on the low roof, eventually pulling up the jumper which easily slipped off over her head.

Without thinking, she tied a knot in the bottom of the jumper akin to a bag. In her head, the voice, “Put the jumper over your head, hurry!” It was urgent, causing the panic to reappear briefly before she managed to push it back down into the recesses of her being. Hands shaking, she placed the jumper over her head. Using all her strength, she started kicking at the lid, she felt the dirt start to rush in, she then began hitting it with the palms of her hands where it had breached above her head. Hearing an almighty crack Joan tried to sit up, realising the lid was no longer above her, she started to move the loose earth into the space around her that she once occupied. Continuing to do this she was finally able to stand, her head boring through the dirt like a teal torpedo.

Ripping the jumper from her head, she continued the arduous task of climbing out of the hole. It was more difficult than she had anticipated, every time she lifted herself up more dirt fell into the hole, like scaling a ladder with no rungs. 

Eventually with one last adrenaline push, she used all of her upper body strength and fell onto the grass heaving for breath. Her lungs burned like wildfire as she inhaled and exhaled heavily. Laid on her back, still gasping for breath, the stars shining down on her, she started to laugh. Laughing until she felt the tears stinging her cheeks, then the floodgates opened, not entirely sure if she was crying because she was happy, sad or relieved. Flipping herself onto her front she attempted to stand, her legs were like jelly but she had to get away from this place. Looking down she realised she had been clinging onto the drawing of Bea. Her breath quickening, she felt the rage build up inside her, it bubbled over like a volcano. 

Screaming “Fuck You!” she tore the picture into tiny pieces, littering the grass like confetti. Closing her eyes her shoulders slumped, she could feel every muscle starting to ache from her efforts. Looking up she squinted her eyes, in the blackness she was sure she could see lights, distant, but lights none the less. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself and limped toward the illuminated beacons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapters are quite short but I'm trying to break them up as they come to a natural end. I as a reader am not particularly keen on really long chapters, so short and sweet. I may update again tonight, but if not tomorrow while the creative juices are flowing!

Joan hadn’t been walking very long on the tree lined path full of giant oaks which were looming over her like brooding colossus’, when she finally reached a road. Looking up and down the deserted highway, the realisation hit her! Joan knew this place, she was in Royal Park! 

“A fucking park!” she stated to the cool air surrounding her. Had she been in better humour, it may have coaxed at least a giggle from her exhausted frame. Of all the places she could have been buried and her fate was chosen to be practically in the centre of Melbourne, oh the irony! Whoever had put her there couldn't have been the brightest spark, "You lack the mental capacity!" she whispered to herself, her voice croaky and her throat aflame. Whoever had put her there would pay for their mistake, they would pay dearly, Joan would make sure of that! But for now she had to get away from here, she needed a safe haven.

A breeze fluttered over her face like a rogue butterfly, causing a few wisps of silver hair which had escaped their bindings to tickle her face gently. As the chill in the air suddenly hit her Joan wrapped her arms around her middle, why had she left her jumper behind? 

Feeling exposed on the open road, Joan knew she had to come up with a plan and fast. After the events of the last few hours a fog had descended on her brain and she couldn’t think. She had no immediate family and certainly no friends. Maybe she could pay Shane a visit? No that’s a stupid idea, he will surely phone the police straight away, given that his friendship with Franky Doyle had taken off so beautifully. She cursed herself for being so perplexed.

“Think!” she whispered, tapping her forehead with her fore and middle fingers. The only name, the only person that came to mind, was Vera Bennett. Her former deputy had after all saved her life in the aftermath of the lynching at the hands of the women, “filthy pigs!” Joan exclaimed through gritted teeth. 

Joan crossed the empty street, she stood for a moment to get her bearings and then headed off slowly in the direction she thought would lead her to Vera’s house. 

Approaching Vera’s house Joan found it in darkness, it must be very late Joan thought, maybe the early hours. Walking through the streets, it had been like a ghost town, just as well, there was no way she was looking nonchalant in her present state. Climbing the few steps to Vera’s front door was a struggle. The ivy which was snaking down from the low roof snagged in her ebony mane as she passed under it. Propping herself up against the awning, she rang the doorbell, no answer. In fact there was no sign of life at all. Then the blackness crept over her, sliding down the post she passed out on the porch.


	3. Chapter 3

Vera left the prison, her transparent plastic bag containing her belongings tucked under her arm. Walking briskly to her car she could feel the tangible chill in the air, a shiver ran through her small frame, causing goosebumps to creep over her.

Sliding into the driver’s seat she threw her bag down on the seat next to her and gently laid her forehead on the steering wheel. The cold leather soothed her aching head, her brain jangled with every movement. It had been hell of a shift. 

Where the fuck was Joan Ferguson? And Franky Doyle for that matter? They had searched every inch of the prison and neither woman were anywhere to be seen. How was it possible to lose two prisoners in one night? The only viable explanation was that they had both escaped, but how, and together? None of it made any sense. Jake had been no help and with Will clocking off early, Vera had endured the torrent of Channing’s wrath alone, absorbing it all like a sponge as she always did, taking the fall, feeling the venom that were his words wash through her veins.

Lifting her head, she rubbed her temples before starting the car. As she was driving through the dismal streets the icy grey sky restlessly grumbled. The thick blackened clouds being dragged down by the deluge, which it held in its delicate frame.

Vera pulled up outside her residence, grabbing her bag she held it over her head and ran through the driving rain to her front door.

She stopped dead at the sight that greeted her.

“Oh my god!” she whispered, barely audible. There in front of her was the sodden form of Joan Ferguson, her hair stuck to her face like creeping tendrils. The rain was coming down on a slant like icy daggers, heading directly for Joan, to seal her fate. Vera crouched down beside her, gently shaking her shoulder, “Joan?” She looked pale and was cold beneath the smaller woman’s fingers. “Joan!” Vera exclaimed, now more insistent, the panic building in her chest, like a comet threatening to burst into a million shards.  


Joan opened her eyes slowly, she looked confused, her dark globes searching Vera’s face for a hint of something recognisable.

“Joan, it’s me, Vera,” she said softly. Joan reached out to touch the delicate features in front of her. It was at that moment that Vera noticed the incisions marking Joan’s palms. “What’s happened to you?” she muttered breathlessly. Joan stared back a blank look on her handsome face. “Let’s get you inside,” and with that Vera did her best to gently guide Joan to her feet. Opening the door they slipped inside unnoticed.


	4. Chapter 4

Vera kicked the door closed, still struggling to hold Joan upright, both arms tightly around her waist. She shuffled them over to the sofa, which wasn’t too far away from the front door. Vera used all of her strength to gently lower Joan onto the sofa, the sinewy muscle in her neck tensing with the strain. Joan sat upright, arms either side of her, hands resting on the sofa cushions palm up. Looking up at Vera through heavy lidded eyes, Vera thought she looked completely defeated. Kneeling in front of the larger woman, Vera touched her arm, she was shivering.

“We need to get you out of these clothes, they’re soaking wet!” Vera quickly left the room to find something for Joan to wear.

Joan rested her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes, her head was swimming, she still felt slightly discombobulated and she didn’t like it. Her head started to throb, emulating from where she had hit her forehead on the box lid. 

The Box!

In a second she was back there, the darkness, the murky air, she couldn’t breathe, fear gripping her insides like a vice, she looked down to see the ivy snaking up her body like an angry serpent, entwining itself around her throat. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing emerged, it was as if her body had turned to stone, as if she had been cursed by Medusa.

“Joan!” 

Opening her eyes, Vera’s worried features swam into view. Her small hands were gripping onto Joan’s shoulders, she’d been shaking her trying to bring her round for the past few minutes. 

“Are you okay? She quizzed, the genuine concern, evident in her tone. “I went to find you something to wear and you were screaming, it was horrible,” Vera broke eye contact, feeling the tears prick her eyes.

“I…umm…yes!” “I’m not sure, I think I was dreaming,” Joan replied, her eyes still wide with fear. 

Vera gave Joan a reassuring rub to her arm and stood up. “I found this t-shirt, it’s way too big for me but it’ll probably still be too small for you,” she held it up for Joan’s inspection. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything else, but we have to get you out of those clothes as you could have mild hypothermia,” she stated apologetically. “Are you okay to get yourself changed or do you need my help?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Joan said as she slowly lifted herself from the sofa. “Just show me where to go.”

“Oh…oh yes, sorry!” Vera trotted off ahead showing Joan into what she could only imagine was a guest bedroom. Vera held out the t-shirt, the atmosphere in the room had changed somewhat, Joan thought, it had become almost heavy.  
“Thank you!” said Joan, the corners of her mouth curling slightly, Vera smiled, looking at the floor, with that she was gone, the door shutting swiftly behind her.

Joan stood and stared at her bedraggled form in the full-length mirror that adorned the corner of the room. Lifting her chin slightly, she inspected the laceration on her neck, long fingers lightly ghosting over the tender skin, she hissed as the nerve signals radiated throughout her neck. That’s going to leave a scar, she thought, not near enough as nasty as the emotional scars that had been inflicted on her these last few days, hanging over her very being like a dark shroud. She slowly managed to get out of her wet clothes with some difficulty, she made the decision not to ask for Vera’s help, she didn’t want to be seen like this, not by anyone, least of all her former deputy, her former protégé.

Vera was in the kitchen preparing a coffee and a hot water bottle for Joan in the hope it would warm her up. She turned to see Joan standing in the doorway, the t-shirt barely making it halfway down her lithe thighs. Vera clamped her hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to break loose. 

“I’m sorry,” Vera quickly exclaimed, “Here” She handed Joan a large, grey fleecy blanket, Joan draped it over her shoulders and again sat on the sofa. Vera appeared at the side of her gave her the hot water bottle and placed the steaming mug of coffee on the glass table in front of them. 

“Joan,” Vera said, a serious tone to her voice, “You can stay here tonight, you need to get some rest, but then I’m afraid you’ll have to leave, tomorrow.”

“But where will I go?” Joan asked in a tiny voice, almost childlike, “I have nothing, no-one!” her lips set into a grim line, the worry and sadness evident on her face.

“I’m not going to throw you out onto the streets,” Vera answered, her voice dripping sincerity, she placed her hand over Joan’s. “I’ll think of something, don’t worry, you just can’t stay here, it’s too risky!”

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I hope will happen at the start of Season 6, I'm doubtful but I can dream. I hope you all enjoy it and remember kudos is love and comments are gladly accepted.


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